


This Dance

by smol_fangirl



Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Dancing With the Stars, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Asexual Julie Molina, F/M, Fluff, I learned how to do social media edits for this, Luke will get roasted in the first weeks until he's a nice shade of toast, Mutual Pining, Pansexual Luke Patterson (Julie and The Phantoms), Social Media, minor mentions of racism, slight mentions of racism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:49:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27687175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smol_fangirl/pseuds/smol_fangirl
Summary: When Luke joined the spring season of Dancing With The Stars, he had no idea it would be like this.“Is it physically possible for you to not mess with your hair in the mirror for two minutes? Or is your hair gel that bad?”“Hey, I don’t use gel. It wouldn’t be so fluffy if I did.”“Then maybe you should.”He flashes her a grin. “You think I’d look good with that?”For once, she’s out of words. Her mouth hangs a bit open as she stares at him. Then she clears her throat and raises an eyebrow at him. “This is a dance show, not a dating platform. We’re not trying to impress people with your hair.”
Relationships: Alex & Julie Molina & Luke Patterson & Reggie, Flynn & Julie Molina, Flynn & Julie Molina & Carrie Wilson, Julie Molina/Luke Patterson, background Alex/Willie
Comments: 70
Kudos: 205





	1. Week 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspiration kidnapped me in the middle of the night, so last week I went down the hellhole of turning a former WIP into a Juke fanfic, and I haven't found a way out yet. Knowing myself, this will end up in more chapters than I planned, but in this house, we play pretend.  
> (Also I've only ever watched one and a half seasons of the German DWTS, accuracy is not part of the program here, please forgive me)  
> Hope you enjoy!! 
> 
> Word count: 2.5k

Back in high school, his friends sometimes called him Duracell Bunny. Even now, Alex and Reggie toss that name around every time he’s jumping up and down from excitement after a long concert or an even longer tour. Luke gets exhausted, sure, just not when music is involved.

But dancing drains him of his energy.

His legs burn with every step. His whole upper body feels like a carnival of sore muscles and fire, and his lungs feel like they’re bleeding. The only thing left on his mind is this overwhelming urge to curl himself into a ball and sleep for the next 24 hours straight.

It’s been two days into the show.

His dance partner isn’t making things easier. Julie’s veins must hold a storm inside, because she never seems to be half as exhausted as he is. While he just changed into his third t-shirt for the day, there’s not one drop of sweat glistening on her forehead. He needs to know her secret. And how she manages to move her feet so quickly…

“Where are you with your thoughts now?” Julie scolds him back into reality. “It’s one, two, three, not one, two, sleep.”

With a huff, Luke feints falling to the floor. “My body seems to disagree.”

“Come on, Patterson, if you can talk back at me, you can dance.” A smirk appears on her lips as she shoves him closer towards the huge mirrors on the wall, probably to sulk in his suffering from a nearer distance. “And five, six, seven…”  
“Wait, hang on. In what direction do I turn again?”

Julie blinks at him. Raises her eyebrows. Her hand wanders up to his shoulder, giving him a push hard enough to swirl him around. “Left, got it?”

“Right.”

She groans.

The next morning, he drags himself up the stairs. Julie watches him from the door, with her curls tamed in a high ponytail and a smile on her lips that’s so wide it seems everything but trustworthy. “Good morning, Luke! How are you feeling?”

He reaches the last step, and it might be only 8 in the morning, but he really, really wants to sink onto the couch in the corner of the studio. “Great. Perfect. I want to die.”

As Julie laughs, her curls bounce along. “Aww, really? Getting that grin out of your face was so much easier than I thought.”

“Seriously?” he pouts, resting against the handrail to look up at her. “I thought you liked me, at least a teeny tiny bit.”

“Those puppy eyes are good, but they won’t work on me, so don’t let them become a habit. And sure I like you,” she smiles. His heart skips a beat. “I especially like you when you feel the consequences of our training. That means I’m doing my job.”

Whirling around, she pushes the door open, motioning for him to stop wasting time.

Slowly, he heaves himself into the studio. “You’re doing an extraordinary job, to be honest. I’m feeling so many consequences right now. Can we take a break?”

An hour later, he wonders how she manages to make him hurt even more.

“Okay, so how do you move your feet so quickly? How is that even physically possible?”

They’re sitting on the floor. Luke’s breathing hasn’t returned to normal yet, while Julie relaxes next to him as if she was sitting outside in a field of wildflowers, soaking up the mild spring sun.

“I don’t know,” she replies, chuckling, “Is it physically possible for you to not mess with your hair in the mirror for two minutes? Or is your hair gel that bad?”

“Hey, I don’t use gel. It wouldn’t be so fluffy if I did.”

“Then maybe you should.”

He flashes her a grin. “You think I’d look good with that?”

For once, she’s out of words. Her mouth hangs a bit open as she stares at him. Then she clears her throat and raises an eyebrow at him. “This is a dance show, not a dating platform. We’re not trying to impress people with your hair.”

Her banter shouldn’t leave him desperately rummaging his mind for a witty response just because she’s raging sunshine in a human body, he thinks, not when they’re alone and he has nothing to lose. Sure, she’s beautiful, but he constantly says stupid stuff in front of beautiful people. It’s nothing new. The way she leaves him speechless is new, however, and so he gulps down another sip from his water bottle, taking his time.

“What’s wrong with wanting to impress people?” he asks then, trying too hard to play it cool. (At least the boys aren’t here to mock him.)

“Oh, nothing. I’d rather you try impressing them with your dance skills though. If you could call them skills.”

“You know, for someone who keeps going on and on about how this is a partner competition, you do roast me a lot.” A hint of amusement leaks into his voice.

Chuckling, she stands up and waves at him to follow her. “Well, then why don’t you let me be nice for once and show you how you can keep up in a Quickstep?”

He’s five minutes early and wears a smile wider than the hallway. 

And a beanie. He’s wearing a beanie, too.

Frowning, Julie takes another sip of her coffee.

“Is this better, boss?” he beams at her and points at his head. Only a few strands sneak out to fall into his forehead, the rest of his hair stays hidden underneath the orange fabric.

She holds back a sigh. Orange. Who looks good in orange? Flynn did, on Halloween in sixth grade when she insisted on dressing as Cinderella’s pumpkin. Her dark black skin made a beautiful contrast to the vibrant color and Julie, matching the theme with her Jaq costume, couldn’t look away all evening.

But Luke, with his pale skin? He has no business looking this good in that color. Or with a beanie.

“If it’ll make you stop touching your hair,” she snorts as she unlocks the door. Behind her, she can almost hear his smile.

During the first ad break, Luke pulls a Tupperware box out of his backpack. Watching him, she thinks about the stack of food he shoveled onto his plate at the buffet.

“Didn’t we have dinner two hours ago?” she asks.

He freezes. “I’m snacky,” he replies. Guilt taints his tone, like she just caught a schoolkid stealing a cookie out of a jar.

The corners of her lips twitch. She leans in until her shoulder brushes against his. When he looks up, the puppy eyes hit her with full force.

“So what did you bring on this fine Friday evening?”

Immediately, he lights up. It catches Bobby’s attention, whose eyes linger on Julie ever since the opening dance, but she shakes that thought away and turns to Luke until Bobby’s black hair disappears from her periphery.

For a moment, Luke fumbles with the box until it finally opens and a sweet scent sweeps through her nose. “The best comfort food ever! Seriously, try it!”

Thinking of her lipstick, she eyes the sliced treat. “So, banana bread is your comfort food?”

Grinning, he shakes his head as if she just confused a Tango with a Foxtrot. “No, duh. _Reggie’s_ banana bread is my comfort food. Honestly, it’s to die for.”

He stuffs a full slice into his mouth at once, and grins at her with full cheeks.

“You realize we have to dance in not even an hour?”

Swallowing down, he nods, and it only looks a little bit like a hamster. A cute hamster, if she’s honest. “It’s just one bite, I’ll be fine.” The laugh tickles her throat, but before she can protest, he holds the box right under her face. “Come on, it won’t kill you. I even helped making it!”

Carefully, she tears a slice in half. “Really? What’d you do?”

“Forgot the bananas on the counter,” Luke grimaces.

She almost chokes from her laughter.

“Thank you, Luke and Julie, for this interesting performance!”

His lungs are burning. His head is dizzy from all the jumping and turning and smiling. His hair sticks to his face, to the layers of make-up plastered on his skin. He’s sweatier than he’d ever care to admit on live national television – but Yasmin doesn’t seem bothered by it at all as she swings her arm around his shoulder and drags her fingers over his bicep.

“Now, let’s hear what the judges think about our new boyband heartthrob!” she squeals directly into his ear, and only half into her microphone. “Carrie, would you like to start?”

For the first time this evening, Luke thinks about quitting.

The cameras pan to the judges, and he doesn’t need high definition to see the frown on Carrie’s face. “Luke, I’m gonna make this short because I believe there’s not much to say about this performance,” she begins, and his heart already sinks to the floor, right next to Julie’s heels. “You promised us rockstar power, but this could’ve been straight from Sunset Boo-levard.”

Next to him, he swears it’s Julie who’s huffing in amusement.

That’s the second time he thinks about quitting.

He has more than one reason to relax, to stay on the couch and not move a single muscle. A half-full popcorn bowl on his lap. Lindt chocolate bars on the table, next to the empty mug of cocoa. The remote control right next to him. _Queer Eye_ flickering over the TV screen.

So many reasons – yet his mind is running in circles.

Pain flares through his body as soon as he imagines the torture of having to learn new ways to tangle his legs in sync with Julie next week. And even if he didn’t stumble, didn’t fail, there’s still Yasmin, and Carrie, and Bobby’s stares…

The longer he thinks about it, the more tempting it seems to make this one final call.

His eyes wander to his phone. Back to Jonathan on the screen, singing and laughing and being gorgeous. His phone, again.

Next to him, Reggie drops on the couch. “Hey, you saved me some popcorn, nice!” Before any protest makes it over Luke’s lips, Reggie turns away and yells, “Alex! He’s watching Queer Eye!”

“Remind me why I’m doing this?” Luke sighs as he slaps Reggie’s hands away from his popcorn.

“Watching Netflix? Because it’s your day off, dude.”

“Not that. The show. _Dancing_.” 

“Oh,” Reggie gasps, then stuffs some chocolate into his mouth. “Cute people?”

“Not a dating platform, Reg.” Behind them, Alex pops up, ruffling through Reggie’s hair and raising his eyebrows at Luke.

Luke chuckles. “Julie said the exact same thing.”

“She sounds smart,” Alex replies as he sinks onto the empty space next to Luke. Grinning, he nudges his shoulder. “You should hang out with her more.”

A groan slips out of Luke’s mouth. “Yeah, I will. When she kills me with kicks and turns and all that shit.”

“You’ll be fine, dude. Just think about the dance number we could incorporate into our next tour. I can’t do that alone.” He sneaks a handful of popcorn out of the bowl. Luke pretends he doesn’t notice.

“Alex, we both know you absolutely could do that alone. But you’re right… that _would_ be fun.”

“So you’re just gonna sideline me?” Reggie pouts, tossing the chocolate foil on the table.

Patting his arm, Luke smiles at his best friend. “We’ll make it work.”

With a satisfied grin, Reggie rests his head on Luke’s shoulder. For a while, they stay like that, cuddled up on the couch in front of their favorite comfort show and it’s almost enough for Luke to forget the alarm set for Sunday morning.

But Alex has other plans. Just when the intro of the next episode begins to play, he glances at Luke and declares, “Also, not to kill your mood or anything, but you know exactly why you’re doing this. And we’ll stay here on the sidelines to cheer you on. Or boo you.”

“Be nice to him, Alex, he just came back from Sunset Boo-levard,” Reggie snickers, quickly joined by Alex’s laugh.

“Ha-ha,” Luke mutters, crossing his arms. “You’re so funny. Both of you.”

“Oh no, Reg, he’s angry pouting! What will we do?”

“I’m not!”

“You are,” his best friends shoot back simultaneously, poking him in the side. Luke shrieks, which gains him nothing but another tickle attack. Within a minute, they’re one ball of entangled limbs on the couch, laughing and yelling till their stomachs hurt and their lungs run out of air.

When they finally focus on the TV again, Luke sighs in silence. Alex is right. One more week won’t kill him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the social media edits including Image Descriptions, sneak peeks and endless complaints about my lack of self-control, pay a visit to my [tumblr](https://smolfangirl.tumblr.com/). And if you ask nicely, I'll share my banana bread recipe :D 
> 
> In week 2, Luke gets roasted some more, while Julie pretends she doesn't know Sunset Curve and has to give her first ever wardrobe pep talk.


	2. Week 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Virtual hugs to everyone who leaves kudos and comments, you are the reason I got through a major "Should I stop posting"-crisis last week ♥  
> In this week's chapter, Luke goes to the gym, then gets roasted, and Julie is having some fun with puns that [my bff](https://hummingbooks.tumblr.com/) was so lovely to help me come up with!
> 
> Word count: 2.5k

She’s sitting in the car, singing along to _Now or Never_ when her phone rings.

“Hey,” she says into her speaker, eyes stuck on the street.

“A gym, Julie? Really?”

“Good morning to you too, beanie boy. I assume you’ve been to the gym before?”

On the other end of the line, Luke huffs. “Yes, and I never danced there. So, what am I doing here?”

With one swift motion, Julie turns off the CD player. Driving around the corner, she discovers a parking spot in front of the entry, right next to where he’s frowning as he waits for her explanation. Grinning, she replies, “Just wait and see,” before she pulls over and smoothly reverse-parks.

As she gets out of the car and he holds the door open for her, his gaze rests on her. “Why do I feel like this will just be another way of you torturing me?”

For a moment she considers ignoring the bait and instead asking him if he forgot his beanie at home, but then a chuckle hushes over her lips along with, “It’s not torture, Luke. I just wanna be sure you’re strong enough to lift me, okay?”

“Excuse you?” he grimaces, flexing his arms. “That good enough for you?”

His attempts at showing off aren’t quite as effective – the flannel jacket can’t compare to the way his tank tops flaunt his muscles, and she’s not sure she misses them.

“Meh, we’ll see,” Julie shrugs. One hand on his back, she shoves him towards the men’s wardrobe. “And less talking, more changing. Five minutes, then I better see you on the treadmill.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Luke grumbles.

Her laugh follows him – until her eyes dart to a flash of color on the floor and the sound dies on the tip of her tongue. “Oh, hey, you dropped something.”

He whirls around. Without looking at her, he snatches the orange beanie out of her hands and frantically stuffs it into the pocket of his jacket. Mere seconds later, the wardrobe door slams shut behind him.

But he didn’t run fast enough to hide the soft hue of pink on his cheeks. As she plugs her headphones into her phone, the grin on her face widens.

On their drive to the studio, Luke stays awfully silent. When a Sunset Curve song comes on, he doesn’t seem to notice that she doesn’t change the radio station, or that she tries incredibly hard to pretend she doesn’t know every word.

He just frowns at his phone.

“Hey, everything okay?” she asks when the traffic forces her to hit the break.

Blinking up at her, he lets his phone disappear inside his backpack. “Sure, yeah. It’s just… our manager is being a bit annoying.”

“How so?”

She knows he’s rolling his eyes without seeing it. “Oh, you know, he thinks the only way to get that number one on the Billboard Hot 100 is to turn us into an actual pop boyband. With these cheesy love songs and break-up ballads and, I don’t know, teenage girls drooling all over us.”

Glimpsing over at him, she catches the grimace plastered all over his face. It reminds her of the house party at Carrie’s place, when Flynn tried Kombucha and immediately spit it into the sink.

Somehow, Luke looks _more_ disgusted than her best friend that night.

“Because teenage girls never drool over rock bands,” she teases, biting back a grin.

He runs his fingers through his hair. Huffs. “It’s not about teenage girls, Julie. I mean, Alex likes pop, I’m sure he’d come around. And Reggie writes country songs all the time. But…”

“It’s not who you are.”

Surprised, he blinks at her. One glance at his puppy eyes, and she sends a grateful prayer to the sky that they’re waiting at a red light right now.

“How do you know?” he almost whispers.

Snorting, Julie looks away. “Duh, you almost hissed at me last week when I called Sunset Swerve a boyband.”

“Sunset Curve,” he winces. “You know that.”

The corner of her mouth that he can’t see twitches. “Do I?”

With a sigh, Luke sinks against the headrest. But the frown on his face already melted into a gentle curve on his mouth, and that’s all she hoped for. 

Right before their lunch break, he drops down on one knee. “Hey, is that a hole in your skirt?”

“What?” She pauses the music, her heart bouncing against her ribcage. Then, his words click. Two seconds later, she sees it too.

A hole.

In the skirt her dad gave her for her first competition at the adult level. 

She curses so loudly that Luke jumps back up to his feet.

“I could try and sew it,” he says half an hour later over a takeaway box of Thai curry. “I mean… if you want. Better than buying a new one.”

Julie glimpses up from her phone, then immediately back at the screen when she sees the smile on his lips. Sighing, she clicks on the “Next page” button. “These flimsy fabrics don’t do well with that, trust me. I’ve tried more than once. And this one is six years old anyway.”

His gaze on her feels warm, like the sun in late May. She stares harder at her phone. Freezes. “Wait, you can sew?”

“Uh, yeah,” he nods, as if she just asked if he liked music, “I’m not a monster who just cuts off my sleeves and lets the seams fray.”

“Oh. Okay. That’s… cool, actually.”

His victorious smile poses a threat to her mental health. Not daring to look at him again, she nibbles on her sandwich. Clicks another button. And another. Sighs.

“What’s wrong?”

“There’s so much leo print on everything lately.”

His shoulders shake in a tiny eruption as he laughs and leans closer to her with a playful glimmer in his eyes. “You don’t like it on the wilder side?”

“Oh, I love the wilder side. In the zoo, preferably. On my skirts, I just want something pretty without animal print, is that too much to ask?” 

“Can I see?” In an instant, the puppy eyes are back. She wonders if it’s a weapon under his control or just a force of nature.

Either way, it’s dangerously cute.

When she nods, he robs closer on the bench. Their shoulders brush. Holding a breath, she slowly begins to scroll.

On the next page, he asks her to stop. His breath tickles her cheek, and a wave of goosebumps rushes over her neck. “What about this one?” he says quietly, his finger hovering above a skirt in a golden yellow, just like the first leaves in autumn.

A smile breezes over her face. “I used to love that color when I was a teenager.”

His gaze finds hers. In the spring sun, his eyes almost shimmer in a light green. Every speck seems to dance just for her as he softly smiles back at her. “Then what’s stopping you? I’m sure it’ll look great on you, Julie.”

Two days later, another memory joins that soft smile in the library of her mind. As she twirls in front of him in her brand-new yellow skirt, his eyes wander over her, and with a wink, he grins at her. “Told you it’d look great.”

That day, she doesn’t scold him for barging into the studio three minutes late.

He had prayed Carrie would be nicer this time. But if someone had heard his prayers, they surely had a strange sense of humor.

“Julie, you were amazing as always. Very clean footwork, darling. Now Luke…” Her gaze drills into him.

If he wasn’t out of breath before, he’d be now.

“Where were you born again?” Carrie continues, “Bore-onto? Or was it Montre-yawn?”

“Yawn-couver, actually,” he replies with a sheepish smile. His cheeks must be redder than Julie’s lipstick.

After Carrie’s done, his smile remains as fake as Julie’s eyelashes for the rest of the show.

Castmates. Crewmates. VIPs. No matter where she turns, she’s surrounded by people. To her left, one of Luke’s competitors, a TV show host she never heard of before, laughs into the last TV camera around. To her right, her colleagues are sipping the free champagne by the bar. Bobby waves at her to join them, with this smile that never fails to make her shudder.

Julie turns away.

In the corner of the room, she spots Carrie. Alone. She’s talking into her phone, a wide smile carved into her face. _Kayla_ , Julie thinks to herself.

A sigh escapes her lips. Last week, Luke bathed in the attention. Where is he now? The look of disappointment on his face hasn’t left her head yet. He crumbled in front of her as soon as the adrenaline wore off, and that one ad break before the elimination didn’t leave her much time to pick him up. 

Perhaps he went straight home.

Two years ago, her partner never stayed for the after-show parties in the four weeks he lasted. The idea of Luke suffering the same fate makes her shudder.

She’ll call him once she’s home.

Julie doesn’t call him. She already put her seatbelt on when she realizes her phone is still charging in the wardrobe. Groaning, she gets out of her car to sneak back into the venue. Behind closed doors, she hears a pop song that’s been on the radio too many times, only drowned by indistinct chatter and laughter.

Quietly, she hushes to the wardrobe.

To her surprise, the room isn’t empty.

The cold neon light falling in from the hallway casts a harsh shadow on his back. He shrieks around to her, his eyes shy in an expression so unfamiliar on his face that it leaves her speechless.

“Oh, it’s you.” A hint of relief taints his voice, although he quickly looks back on the black phone screen in his hand.

“What are you doing here?”

“Nothing much,” Luke shrugs. With a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, he adds, “Shouldn’t you be shaking it off with everyone else?”

Frowning, she steps inside. Closes the door. The noise of the party makes space for a deafening silence. For a moment, the yellow spots and lines from the street lanterns dance around the otherwise dark room.

Finally, she finds the switch on the wall.

In the light, he looks even worse – like a flower that died of thirst.

“Is everything okay?”

Luke shrinks into his chair. “I’m a terrible dancer,” he whispers.

Her heart clenches in her chest. “Don’t you think that’s a bit harsh?”

Even before he gives her the side-eye, she bites her lip. The past two weeks flash through her mind, all the snarky comments, the teasing. She teased him so much. _Enjoyed_ it, too. (A little bit too much, if she thinks about it. So naturally, she doesn’t think about it.)

Perhaps she should’ve stopped.

“You heard Carrie,” he huffs now, hand in his hair. “I’m too selfish for a dance partner. And we almost got eliminated.”

The door slams open.

Eyes wide open, she whirls around. Her heart skips a beat. 

It’s Ari, one of the make-up artists. Spotting them, they raise an eyebrow as their golden eyeliner shimmers in the light. Still frowning, they walk over to the shelf. Grab the lonely make-up bag left there. Walk back to the door. Neither of them speaks a word.

The door shuts with the same loud noise they opened it with. With a deep breath, Julie prays they’re not one of the crew members with loose lips.

Luke sighs. “I should just quit.”

Turning around to him, she finds him gazing on the floor, looking even more like a kicked puppy than before. “Okay, let me stop you right here. You wanna quit? Really? Do you want to learn how to dance or not?”

“Not. Right now, I’d rather not. It’s pointless anyway.”

“Are you sure you’re really my dance partner? Or did you get swapped with your alien clone when I wasn’t looking?”

The joke fails to lure a laugh out of him, or even a smile. Her heart sinks to the bottom of her ribcage.

“Come on, Julie, don’t pretend I was any good today.”

“I liked your Yawn-couver joke. That was good. And your blueberry muffins.”

He bites his lip.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she drops into the chair next to him. Catches his gaze. Holds it. “Okay, yeah, today wasn’t your best. So what? Fine, we had our elimination scare. Done. Cross it off the checklist, whatever. Do you think every single person who won this show already owned the floor by the second week? Of course they didn’t. Dancing is hard work, and you don’t just learn that overnight. But that doesn’t mean you should just give up like that.”

Grimacing, he breaks their eye contact. Maybe she only met him two weeks ago, but it’s not hard to guess where the train of his thoughts is headed. And although he annoyed her in the beginning – although he still annoys her, sometimes – her heart aches for him.

Him and these goddamn puppy eyes.

Carefully, she rests her hand on his shoulder. “Luke, I’m serious. It happens. Sometimes it’s because your fans thought you’d make it into the next round without much of an effort. Sometimes it’s because you thought you’d make it into the next round without much of an effort. It doesn’t matter. The only thing that’s important is what you learn from it.”

Like water in her hands, he escapes her hold. In one swift movement, he jumps up. Arms crossed, he turns his back to her and stares out of the window. His reflection wears a frown.

“Coming from someone who won her first WDC ballroom world championship when she was 21,” Luke mumbles, “and another one the year after.”

She had never mentioned her titles in front of him.

“You forgot to mention all the competitions I lost,” she replies softly. “I didn’t win every comp I participated in. But they taught me a lot, and they’re the reason I won the others.”

With a sigh, he faces her again, the disappointment still a dark cloud looming over his hazel eyes. “But Carrie…”

“Also gave you advice on how to improve, didn’t she? If she thought you were a lost case, she’d save her breath. Did you hear how she tore Eric apart? She thinks he’s a disaster.”

“Maybe he’s from Sunset Boo-levard as well.”

When she cackles, the frown melts away.

 _Finally_.

“You’re not a bad dancer, Luke,” she says, her fingers brushing over his arm.

“You sure about that?”

“Yes. Next week, just take training a bit more seriously, okay?”

He smiles at her like the first warm sunrays after winter, and something in her chest tightens.

“I’ll try.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the social media edits including Image Descriptions, sneak peeks and the JATP cheesecake wars, visit my [tumblr](https://smolfangirl.tumblr.com/)! 
> 
> In week 3, Luke has a gift for Julie, Flynn receives great news, and Julie doesn't realize when people (try to) flirt with her.


	3. Week 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who left a kudos and an even bigger thank you to those who left comments!!  
> In this chapter, Luke has a gift for Julie, the media prepares the Juke train, and Flynn finally gets news about the casting she went to.  
> Content warning: mentions of racism, one time mentioned as a possible consequence after Luke's gift to Julie and one time mentioned in a tweet regarding Flynn. 
> 
> Word count: 3.4k

He can hear them. Huddled around the little screen in the corner, lost in a whispered discussion about the material they just recorded. For the last two weeks, he blended the crew out as soon as the cameras weren’t aimed as his face anymore. He drowned out Marco’s insistent tapping on the script. Christina’s voice, calm and steady. Footsteps and clicking pens and the noise that so much equipment and so many people invite into the studio. Usually, he ignores it.

Today, every little sound that doesn’t come from Julie messes up the steps he takes.

“Hey, why don’t we take a quick break?”

Luke blinks at Julie, his mind suddenly empty mid-thought. Before his brain catches up with her, she locks his wrist in her hand and gently drags him to the side before she pulls him on the floor. “What’s the issue, Luke?” she mumbles, only for him to hear.

He throws a look over his shoulder. Back to Julie, and the golden halo of sunshine around her curls. Exhaling, he reminds himself to release the tension in his shoulders.

“I don’t know. What if I never learn this?”

“Why?” Her voice floats through the air like it’s dancing a waltz. Or a Slow Foxtrot? He still struggles to tell the difference.

“Well I haven’t made a lot of progress today, haven’t I? And it looked so easy last week when Anya and…”

“Okay, no, let me stop you right there.”

He raises an eyebrow at her, challenging her to prove him wrong when the judges’ score still flashes through his mind, along with _Bore-onto_.

Her hand on his arm turns the lights off in his head. “Luke, of course it looked easy – because you weren’t the one who had to learn that choreography.”

“But now I have to.”

“Yes.”

His eyes dart to the floor, right next to where his heart sinks down. “What if I disappoint you again?”

“You can’t. Remember what I told you after the show?”

Under the softness of her gaze, he chuckles. How could he forget? “To take training more seriously this week?”

As a little laugh pearls over her lips, she nudges her shoulder against his for just a moment. “Yeah, okay, that too. But I also told you that you’re not a bad dancer. You can do this.”

He bites his lip, tries to fight the sigh. Exhales loudly.

“Luke, listen,” she says, her hand suddenly under his chin, leading his gaze to her. Her fingertips are slightly cool against his skin. “I know you can do better than last week. I _want_ you to do better than last week. I want you to walk out there on Friday and show the judges, and especially Carrie, what a caffeine-free espresso from Yawn-couver can do. Okay?”

Somewhere on the floor, his mind searches for its scrambled pieces.

He can only stare at her, utterly and completely speechless. Because of her unwavering belief in him, because of the goosebumps running down his arms when she talks with this gentle fire in her voice.

Because of the curve on her lips, _for him_ , and because he never met anyone like her. 

Neither of them notices the camera in the corner of the studio as it catches the bright smile he sends back at her.

Luke is late. Actually late.

By now, she’s used to him barging in one minute before training is supposed to start, but the clock on the wall moved to 8:10am and he’s nowhere to be seen. He didn’t call. He didn’t text.

Maybe she’ll let him do push-ups after the warm-up – he’d deserve it. (And there’s something pleasing about the sight of him cursing her while sweat drips down his face.)

Julie checks her phone. Still no life sign. Even a tweet from him would make her happy now.

Just when she’s about to unlock the screen and search for his contact, he rushes through the door. His hair is a mess. Sweat glistens on his forehead. His chest heaves from the force of his gasps for air. And he has flowers.

She blinks in confusion.

When Julie opens her eyes again, they’re still in his hands. Bright purple dahlias, the same beautiful shade her mom used to grow in the garden. The snarky remark she planned to greet him with dies on her lips.

“…so I hope you’ll excuse the little delay,” Luke rambles as he stops in front of her, just an armlength away, the flowers extended towards her. “Um, this is for you.”

Hesitantly, she wraps her finger around the stems, not sure they won’t turn into thin air under her touch. “You brought me flowers?”

The smile he gives her is an unfamiliar sight – nothing like the charming smirk he wears so easily. “Yeah. I was waiting at the traffic light down by the park, and I saw them and uh, they reminded me of that patch you have on your backpack.”

Her mom’s patch. It’s barely an inch in size, and he noticed it. Remembered it, too. “So you just stopped by and bought them?” she asks, struggling to keep her voice from falling apart. _Just like that?_

“See, sometimes, when the stars align in just the right position, I do something thoughtful for someone around me. And today that just happened to be you, so, you know, thank your lucky stars tonight.” The smirk is back, along with the teasing glimmer in his eyes. That alone deserves fifty push-ups.

The flowers are gorgeous, though.

“You’re still late,” she replies and hides her smile behind the bouquet.

About fifteen minutes later, she gets too hot under her hoodie. “Keep moving,” she shouts over the music before she pulls it over her head and drops it on one of the chairs by the windows.

When she walks back towards him, his eyes brush over her. He freezes.

Stares at her. Her chest, especially.

Within two seconds, she’s over it. It’s nothing new, yet it never stops annoying her, even years after she hit puberty. In two weeks of dancing together, he’s already seen her in tank tops and sports bras, and twice in a tight glittery costume. He never stared. So why do his eyes widen like that over a simple t-shirt? 

Taking a deep breath, she opens her mouth.

“Los Feliz, right?” Luke blurts out.

“What?”

“Los Feliz high school,” he says, nodding at the blue bobcat printed on her shirt. Her chest, specifically.

“Oh,” she whispers. Her anger fades as quickly as it rose, leaving only an embarrassing heat on her cheeks. “Yeah,” she says, brushing a strand of hair behind her ears. 

“Nice. Hey, how come I never saw you in school?”

With one click on the remote, she pauses the music. “Wait, you went there too?”

Luke nods, and for a second, a picture of him in a bobcat hoodie flashes through her mind. “Yeah. And I’m pretty sure I would’ve noticed you. So why didn’t I?”

Oh. Then he never googled her. But he knew about her championships, and the show’s management didn’t exactly give presentations on their professional dancers. It made no sense… unless he’s lying. Was he that good of an actor?

With the slightest shake of her head, she takes a step back. She doesn’t want to talk about her mom right now, so she blinks away from his expectant puppy eyes. “Well, you graduated one year before me, right? I only went there for the last two years of high school and to be honest, I was kinda trying to be invisible during my junior year.”

“Oh. Right.” His smile falters. He rubs his neck and looks so lost that she wishes she would’ve just made up a lie.

She clears her throat. “Crazy, huh? We could’ve met years ago.”

The corner of his mouth twitches. “Yeah, you would’ve hated me in high school. I was such an idiot.”

“And now you’re not?”

With a pout on his lips, he presses his right hand on his heart. “Right in the feelings, Molina.”

Rolling her eyes, she steps closer until they’re mere inches apart. Carefully, she places her hand on top of his. She can hear his breath hitching as she looks up at him. “You’ll be fine,” she says, and if her heart skips a beat at the wonderstruck expression on his face, he doesn’t need to know.

**** **  
**

A mischievous glimmer lights up her eyes as she sits down next to him. “You know, that actually would’ve been a good excuse to be late,” Julie snickers, watching him as he brushes the sole of his shoes harder than just a few seconds ago.

Luke bites his lip, but he can’t help himself. “So you’re saying you’d prefer me to be late because I took care of my shoes rather than because I wanted to do something nice for you?”

As his hand pauses its frantic movements, she tilts her head as if she can’t quite believe him. “It’s a nice thing to value our training time enough to be prepared before we start.”

“We haven’t started yet.”

“Because of you.”

“And I highly value that.”

The grin spreading out on his lips earns him a shove on his shoulder from her, but even the deep sigh echoing through the room can’t conceal the hint of amusement in her voice as she tells him to just hurry up.

The message pops up on her phone during the last few minutes of their lunch break. Bobby included what might be ten question marks in a row underneath the link, and it’s not the first time she regrets giving him her number.

With the slightest shake of her head, she closes the conversation and turns to Luke who’s just walking back in, wiping his wet hands on his shorts.

“Hey, Luke, why do I not know we’re dating?”

He looks at her like she’s a ghost. “Say what now?”

Laughing, she waves her phone. “I just sent it to you.”

Frowning, he sits down next to her, his fingers already hurrying to unlock the screen. He reads silently. With each second, the wrinkle on his forehead deepens.

“Oh, come on. Blooming? Really?” he snorts and shoves the phone into his bag. “And they spelled front man wrong.”

“Okay, so, not a fan of puns.” 

“Of _bad_ puns. Just ask Reggie.” He huffs, shaking his head as his gaze wanders to the tree outside the studio. “That’s just the worst, you know? Someone went for the cheapest joke in the universe and probably thinks they’re being _so_ funny and _so_ clever, and actually has the nerve to call themselves a journalist for writing this crap.”

Head tilted, Julie raises an eyebrow at him. Yasmin pops into her mind, the waterfalls of questions crashing down on them on Friday nights. Every camera aimed at their faces. The trending topics on Twitter. The comments of his fans, the racism that she knows could hit her any second. “That’s the worst part about this for you?” she asks. “A bad pun?”

Luke shrugs. “I don’t know. Kinda. According to these magazines I already dated half the country and have, like, thirteen secret kids. The puns are terrible, but other than that I don’t really care about whatever bullshit they make up about me.”

Her eyes dart to the clock. There’s more to unpack here, but the time is ticking, and if she’s honest to herself, she’s not exactly looking forward to listening to his assurance that he’d never go out with her. That can wait for another day.

Or never.

She grimaces at him. “And here I hoped you learned your lesson and would be punctual next time instead of bringing me some random flowers you bought on the street.”

Flashing her a grin, _the_ grin, he softly bumps his shoulder against hers. “I know you loved them. I saw your tweet.”

With a little gasp, she shoves him away. “You’re stalking me?”  
“You wish.”

“According to STARS magazine, I guess I do.”

“You know, it’s not that bad,” he contemplates, basking in the few sunrays sneaking through the window. “When the fans think we’re dating they’ll keep us in the show. People eat that shit right up.”

For a moment, she stares at him, speechless. His eyes are closed, and he looks so relaxed, so _content_ right now that she’d get lost in the sight if it wasn’t for the rambling mess that just spilled out of his mouth.

“So you can slack off during training?” Julie finally replies, “In your dreams, Patterson. You better get up and move that little ass! You still haven’t learned your solo part.”

She doesn’t need to look at him to know he’s pouting again.

“Okay, Luke, no.”

She lets go of him and takes a step back, her head shaking so hard that her curls fly through the air.

“What did I do wrong?” he asks, quietly enough that the microphone on his shirt shouldn’t catch it over the music.

As Julie presses the pause button on her remote, the room falls silent. Under the expectant gaze of the cameras, he feels the sweat rolling down his forehead. The silent judgment of the crew doesn’t make it easier to catch a breath.

“Technically nothing,” Julie replies. “But this is a Salsa, Luke. It’s emotional, it’s passionate. You need to feel this dance, okay? I want more feelings in your movements, more flirting.”

A chuckle sneaks over his face. “Well, flirting shouldn’t be too hard with such a cute dance partner.”

In the background, Christina snorts. His cheeks burn up, and he tries to hold on to his smile if only to conceal how much he meant it.

In a cruel mixture of luck and misery, Julie just snorts. “No need to flatter yourself, Patterson. You’re here to learn how to dance.”

“I wasn’t…” he begins, but Julie already turns the music back on and wraps her hands around his wrists. As he takes a deep breath and follows her lead, he wonders if this scene will make the cut.

The sun shines into his face while he listens to Julie’s interview from the windowpane. Marco keeps changing his mind over how impressed he wants her to be by Luke, and even after the fifth take, the softness of her voice warms his chest. When Marco takes a breath to ask the same question for a sixth time, Christina quietly walks over to him. She’s by far his favorite crew member, and for a sound assistant in her 20s Marco seems to trust her judgment more than anyone else’s.

Pulling her hands from behind her back, she reveals a metal box to him. “Cookie?” she mouths, and sneaks one into her mouth.

Before he’s done nodding with all the enthusiasm he can muster, he already devours the chocolate chip treat in one bite.

“It’s perfect,” he whispers back, and a few crumbs find their way onto his shirt. Chuckling, Christina leans in and brushes them off.

“I don’t think Julie would be too happy if you leave crumbs all over the dancefloor.”

Luke glimpses at his dance partner, and the smile that’s growing more tired with every take. “Yeah, you’re right.” Chewing his second cookie, he adds, “These are delicious, by the way. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Sure,” she smiles back.

As his eyes dart to the box again, the colors on her nails catch his attention. Tiny stripes of white, hugged by a pastel pink and light blue. The trans pride flag, without a doubt. A smile hushes over his face.

“Cool nail polish,” he says.

“Oh, thanks! Not as cool as your bouquet, though. Purple dahlias, right? Did you know that’s a symbol for kindness and grace?”

Hiding his face in his hands, he barely manages to fight a groan. “Please, not you too.”

When he glimpses up at her, a gentle smile hushes over her lips. “I thought it was sweet. And they’re the perfect flowers for Julie, don’t you think?”

They watch Julie as she gets up from her seat in front of the camera and directly turns to look at Luke. In a heartbeat, her expression softens, and his mind travels back to her pep talk in the wardrobe, and the way she whirls around the studio every day. “Yeah,” he mumbles. “Kindness and grace.”

**  
**

As the dial sound rings in her ears, Julie already marches up and down the living room. She can feel Carlos’ amused stares from the other side of the room, but she’s too excited to even flip him off with a single look.

“Hey, Jules, what’s up?”

“Flynn!” she shouts, jumping up and down until the wooden floor creaks underneath her feat. “You never told me it was gonna be a Jane Austen movie! Jane Austen! I’m so happy for you!”

In a second, the volume of Flynn’s voice matches her own. (She doesn’t notice Carlos hurrying up the stairs, hands covering his ears.) “Oh my god, I know! I wasn’t allowed to! But I almost spilled so. Many. Times!”

“And Northanger Abbey! Catherine!” Julie grins into her phone. “You’ll get to wear all these dresses! And dance! I’m not gonna lie, I’m kinda jealous. And so, so proud of you, Flynn. So proud!”

“Don’t make me cry again, girl,” her best friend croaks on the other side of the line, “I’ve already run through a whole pack of tissues.”

“I mean, you’ll get to fall in love with Henry Tilney, I’d cry too!”

“Oh, sweet Henry… the only white boy I’m ever gonna simp for.”

Falling on the couch, Julie lets out a laugh. “Maybe they won’t cast him as a white boy. A girl can dream, right? Hey, what about a movie night on Saturday to celebrate?”

Flynn gasps. “With Austen movies? You know I gotta dive into research now.”

“ _Duh_. I’ll ask Dad to make the pastelóns you like so much.” With a glimpse over her shoulder, she spots him in the kitchen, dancing along to the radio with a huge grin on his face. “He’s really happy for you.”

“Jules, I love you,” Flynn sighs, and it sounds like she’s really happy, too.

The smile on Julie’s face almost hurts her cheeks. “I love you more.”

**  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the social media edits including Image Descriptions, sneak peeks and an ask box that's always open, visit my [tumblr](https://smolfangirl.tumblr.com/)!  
> If you happen to know an actor you'd love to see as Henry Tilney, I'd be over the moon grateful to you if you send your suggestions to me! (Bonus points for young British actors of color :D)
> 
> In week 4 pt. 1, Alex just wants Luke to use his brain, Luke isn't too proud to beg, and Julie decides to test him. 
> 
> In order to actually write my Secret Santa fanfiction, I won't post another chapter for this au for at least the next two weeks, maybe three, depending on my motivation and inspiration for week 5. Until then I wish all of you happy holidays, happy Hanukkah, and just in case a happy and healthy New Year!


	4. Week 4 part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’ll be fine,” she reassures him, to no avail. Her voice is free of the annoyance he half expected and instead carries a hint of amusement that frustrates him even more.  
> “Are you sure? Because Carrie sometimes gives off these Mean Girl vibes, you know what I’m saying?”  
> “For you, maybe. She’s one of my closest friends.”  
> With a sigh, he drops on the floor. The parquet feels cool against his skin. “Is that even allowed?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaaaack! Writer's block can be mean, but now I have three chapters entirely done and after this chapter, we are getting to a lot of my favorite moments. Hope it'll be worth the wait! 
> 
> In this part, Alex sees it coming, Luke tries to argue with Julie over the choreography (good luck, Luke) and Julie has to admit that Flynn is right. (She's not too happy about it.) 
> 
> Word count: 2.3k

The last drop of coffee just runs down his throat when Alex walks into the kitchen. He’s wearing one of Willie’s shirts, and the messy blonde bed hair fuels Luke’s jealousy until he thinks of Julie’s smile waiting just for him.

“Be careful, okay?” Alex sighs as he grabs the milk carton out of the fridge and reaches for a cereal bowl in the top shelf.

“Thanks, bro, but I was just drinking coffee.” And burning his tongue. But Alex doesn’t need to know that.

“That’s not what I mean.”

As he fills his water bottle, Luke wonders if the time of day is making him stupid or if maybe his best friend set an early alarm clock too.

“Okay, well, I’m not planning on breaking a bone or something today either.”

Unimpressed, Alex raises an eyebrow at him. It’s a look Luke knows all too well, a silent dare to stop the nonsense. But right now, he really doesn’t know what nonsense Alex is alluding to.

He shrugs and tosses his snack box into his backpack.

“I mean whatever you’re trying to pull with Julie, okay?” Alex explains, falling into his favorite chair by the kitchen table. Right now, though, he ignores the backyard view to glare at Luke like his mom used to back in high school. “Think about the press. The paparazzi. Is that trouble really worth it?”

“Jeez, chill, Alex. I just bought her some flowers, not an engagement ring,” he laughs. Sure, Caleb wasn’t happy about the articles, but the smile on Julie’s face was worth every second of that phone call.

“Okay,” Alex says, shaking his head in quiet disbelief before he pours the Lucky Charms into his bowl. His thoughts are written all over his face, though, and Luke almost replies to the sentence he heard too many times to count since the start of their friendship. Instead he swallows it down and replaces it with a goodbye.

When he walks out of the door, he knows he won’t give Alex any reason to say, “I told you so”.

“Julie, no. If you do that, you’ll break all your bones.”

She returns his gaze with a blank stare, waiting. For what, he doesn’t know – maybe for him to stop arguing over the choreography.

Except he doesn’t know how to do that.

“They won’t allow it,” he adds, hands ruffling through his hair as he shifts on his feet. “They’ll see it during rehearsal and then we’ll have to improvise, and I don’t think I have to explain to you why that’s a bad idea. Unless we’re talking guitar solos, of course, I’m great at improvising these. But dancing…”

“Luke,” she interrupts his hectic rambling, her fingertips ghosting over his arm.

He takes a deep breath.

“We won’t have to improvise. It’s not even the most dramatic element we’ve had in the show for a Samba. It’s just jumping on and off a table.”

“From the judges’ table!” he shoots back, “That’s insane! What if I don’t catch you?”

“It’ll be fine,” she reassures him, to no avail. Her voice is free of the annoyance he half expected and instead carries a hint of amusement that frustrates him even more.

“Are you sure? Because Carrie sometimes gives off these Mean Girl vibes, you know what I’m saying?”

“For you, maybe. She’s one of my closest friends.”

With a sigh, he drops on the floor. The parquet feels cool against his skin. “Is that even allowed?”

“What are they gonna do? Stop me?” Julie chuckles at him, arms crossed as she watches him go through his hair. Again.

Looking up at her, it’s easy to spot the fire burning in her eyes, and the same stubbornness he sees when he looks in the mirror. He shakes his head. “Yeah, you’re right.”

A smile forms on her lips. “I know.” For a moment, she glances at the ceiling as if she was debating the universe, then she adds, “Also, just for the record, I know you jumped from a stage before too. Several times.”

That wink. That laugh. His stomach twists.

“You stalked me on the internet?” The words slip out of his mouth quicker than his brain paints the memory of that performance. First tour, last song before the break. Every night, his heart jumped through the roof as he let himself fall on the mattress a few meters below him. Every night, the fans went wild.

Julie won’t have a mattress. Just him.

Suddenly he understands why Alex hated that little stunt so much.

Tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, she snorts at him. “No, I didn’t stalk you. I did this thing called working – maybe you’ve heard of it – where I was trying to find out what I’d have to deal with. Find out if you’ve “danced” before.”

He decides to ignore the quotation marks her hands left hanging in the air. “And? Did I exceed your wildest dreams?” he grins through the nervous clenching of his stomach.

“In my wildest dreams I have a dance partner who can tell left and right apart, so you tell me.”

“I’ll ask you again after the finale, then.”

Shaking her head, Julie breaks away from his gaze. But even though she hides under a curtain of her hair as she adjusts the lacing of her shoes, he swears he hears her mutter, “This goddamn confidence.”

He’ll try to get that idea out of her head again later.

They’re sitting on the couch in the corner, napkins spread out around them, paper plates on their laps. Their knees casually bump against each other. Neither of them moves away.

“Thanks for lunch,” Julie mumbles through the first bite of her burrito.

“Sure,” he says, thinking about the enthusiastic sparkle in her eyes when he placed the order. His mouth suddenly dry as a Nevada desert, he puts his taco back on the plate. “Hey, Julie, I’m still not a fan of the table.”

She shoots him a look but doesn’t answer.

“Do you really wanna do this?”

“Luke.” Her hand on his arm. Her eyes so brown, so _warm_. His heart skips a beat.

“Seriously,” she adds, “you’ll catch me. Don’t worry. That’s what we’re practicing for.”

His voice fades into a whisper. “How do you trust me like that?”

Shrugging, she gives him a smile, and it doesn’t matter that some guacamole clings to her lips. “I just do.”

Behind Julie, he steps out of the studio and directly into the sunlight. He forgot his sunglasses in his bag upstairs, so he squints at the clear blue sky, goosebumps covering his skin under the mild breeze. Now that he spends his weeks in the studio with Julie, opportunities to soak up the colors and warmth of spring are rare, and in the bliss of the moment he almost forgets the rollercoaster of the heartbeat in his chest because he has no idea what she’s planning. Sighing in content, Luke closes his eyes against the sun.

And almost runs into her.

She stops on the last staircase, ponytail brushing her shoulders as she turns around. The questioning look he sends her unlocks no reaction.

“Marco, I’d say we start right here,” she says instead. “This little stone wall right here should be a good start.”

Oh.

 _Oh no_.

“Sure,” Marco grunts and waves his team closer. Christina smiles at Luke and gives him a thumbs-up.

“You can’t be serious,” Luke whispers to her, but Julie just wraps her fingers around his wrist and gently pulls him forward.

“Hey, it’s gonna be fine. Even if we run into some fans they’ll be too busy drooling over you to notice that your hair looks greasy.”

“Wait, does… hey! Not funny,” he pouts.

The grin flashing over her lips proves him wrong.

Christina didn’t attach the mic to his collar yet, so he replies in a mumble, “I should drop you for real this week.”

Her hand wanders over his chest, resting right above his hurrying heartbeat. “You wouldn’t. If I got injured you’d have to dance with someone else and you’d miss me too much.”

Truth is, he would indeed.

First, it’s stairs. Then benches on the sidewalk. Eventually, she climbs on walls to throw herself into his arms. The playful wind fails to distract Luke from the way his t-shirt starts to cling to his skin, or how the tension strangling his heart doesn’t fade. Every time, she chooses to aim for something higher. Every time, he almost gets dizzy imagining what could go wrong, blue stains on dark skin and red dots on grey underground.

He needs to calm down.

“Last one for today, Luke, I promise,” Julie grins as she grabs his arm and pulls him down the street.

Behind them, Marco shouts at them to wait up with the same old annoyance his tone carried throughout the entire morning. Monday doesn’t seem to be his favorite part of the week, Luke thinks, wishing once more that he could blend out the crew just like Julie.

Then he watches her climb another wall, and he wishes he never signed up for the show.

“Julie, that’s my height.”

“The height in your passport or the one of your ego?”

He sighs. “You couldn’t climb half as high as you always insist my ego is.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

Another sigh escapes his mouth, and it feels heavy even as it echoes through the air. “Why are we doing this? Is it because of my text last night?”

Cowering down until she sees eye to eye with him, Julie rests her hand on his cheek. Her skin feels cool against the fire burning underneath his cheeks. Maybe he could forget what he’s afraid of if she stayed like that just a little longer…

“We’re doing this because you need to trust yourself that you can catch me. Even if I climb as high into the clouds as your ego.”

“Very funny,” he mutters under his breath, only to lose it the very next second as she stands up and jumps. No warning. No second thought.

The _thump_ of her landing in his arms isn’t even half as loud as his heartbeat racing in his ears. If his mind could fathom any words right now, he’d yell at her for being so reckless.

“See, I knew you can do it!” she laughs. Her perfume breezes into his nose as she hugs him, and he’s still holding her, still keeping her close, hoping he’ll never let her fall without him.

“You two done now?”

Marco. The camera.

“Sure,” Julie beams, letting go with the happiest smile he’s ever seen on her since they started training together.

The twist in his stomach must come from the adrenaline rush wearing off.

“By the way, there’s one more element to the choreo.”

Luke is lying on the floor. The sweat on his neck glistens in the afternoon sun as his shoulder blades gently move along with his breaths. Her eyes glide over his backside, searching for a reaction. A life sign. After four weeks, she wonders if he collapses on the floor just to be dramatic.

Does he remember there’s no camera team around anymore?

“Hey, Patterson,” she tries again, “I said there’s one more element to the choreo. We’re not done here.”

A weak string of curses.

Sitting down next to him, she pats his shoulder. Her eyes settle on the plastic stem peeking out of her bag. “Have a little faith in me, beanie boy. It’s only a slightly altered version of the beginning.”

“How altered?” he mutters.

“All you need to do is give me a flower and maybe wink at the camera. Think you can manage that?”

He turns his head to shoot her a glare, and her grin inevitably deepens at his confusion. “Why?”

“I thought if I have to see one more tweet about this stupid bouquet from last week in my notifications, it should at least be for my own amusement.”

“Not stupid,” Luke shoots back too quickly for someone playing half dead. When she laughs, he hides his face in his arm.

Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror, Julie realizes Flynn was right. She has a Luke face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find the social media edits including image descriptions and updates on upcoming chapters and WIPs on [my tumblr](https://smolfangirl.tumblr.com/)!  
> !
> 
> In week 4 part 2, Luke takes Julie home and Alex and Reggie get front-row (or backseat) tickets to their banter. And cookies. 
> 
> Check out my other [fics!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smol_fangirl/works?language_id=en/)


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